As the sun filtered through the trees, I walked down the hill toward home. I had just dropped my children at school and a day of chores beckoned. As unappealing as it felt, at least I had six hours of peace and quiet to work through my to-do list.
Ahead of me, a young mother approached with a baby strapped to her front (oh, how I remember those days). Beside her walked a little girl, almost swallowed by an oversized school uniform that brushed her ankles. From behind them came the sound of wailing. A third child trailed behind, wearing a school uniform that was clearly not his. He was crying as he struggled up the steep hill in the morning heat.
As they passed, I light-heartedly commented to the mother that I felt his pain facing such a mountain. Instead of stopping to encourage him, she began yelling. She told him to stop crying and that people would think he was a silly boy who looked old enough for school but was acting like a baby. Her voice faded as the distance between us grew, but I could still hear her chiding him as they continued toward the school.
My heart hurt for that little boy. He was simply communicating his discomfort in the only way he knew how. He couldn’t have been more than three years old. I walk that hill twice a day—sometimes three—and that’s my exercise. It can be tough, and I’m forty-three. I also felt sadness for the mother, who likely believed that “toughening him up” was what he needed in that moment.
It took me back to my own early days of parenting. Parenting is a tough gig. Nothing really prepares you. People say it gets easier as your children grow, but I’m no longer convinced. Some things do get easier; mostly, the challenges just change shape.
There came a moment when I realised I didn’t know what I was doing. I had three children, no manual, and I’d reached the end of my own resources. I knew I needed help. That realisation is why I eventually started this blog—to share what I was learning about parenting, in the hope it might help someone else feel less alone.
I once thought life was busy with two toddlers and a newborn. Ha. No one warned me that I wouldn’t truly understand “busy” until I was ferrying children between twenty-one extra-curricular activities each week. Or that their emotional needs would grow as they navigated friendships, disappointments, and the simple adversities of growing up.
This little blog has been sitting in a dusty corner of the internet for the past few years while I adjusted to our new parenting normal. But it has always been close to my heart. Visitor numbers still tick along thanks to the book lists I compiled—and, oddly enough, a post about what to do with Weetbix crumbs. Who knew so many parents shared my daily pantry dilemmas?
I’ve missed putting my musings out into the world. I hope to build a little momentum here again by sharing the things I find useful these days—plenty of book posts, ways to ease the pain of daily lunchbox packing, and other parenting hacks I love. No promises, but I do hope to stop by more often.
Love,
Mum a.k.a Rox
